The Wawanakwa Tales
by ferguson97
Summary: AU. Detective Eva Vargra has just been transferred to a new, dangerous city - Wawanakwa City! After a young high school student is brutally murdered, anyone can be a suspect in this city where nobody is innocent. Meanwhile, Duncan and Scott engage in a life of crime while Trent runs his infamous cult worshiping the Ninth God. Rated T. Very dark.
1. Tough Fish in a Big Pond

_**The Wawanakwa Tales**_

**Disclaimer**: The rights of _Total Drama Island_ belong to its distributors; Teletoon, Cartoon Network, Fresh TV, and Cake Entertainment. The characters of Chris McLean, Chef Hatchet, Josh, and the thirty-eight original contestants of the first five seasons belong to the aforementioned companies.

Oh, and I am writing this purely for entertainment and no monetary gain.

**Author's Note**: This fan fiction takes place in Wawanakwa City, which is obviously fictional. All forty main characters live in this city, but their roles will vary. Some will be main characters that appear in almost every chapter, while others may be one-time appearances. The character's ages have all been adjusted to fit the storyline, whether the reasons are for their occupation or for whatever other purposes are required.

Obviously, a story would not be interesting without romance. But it would be stupid if I told you what those couples WERE. You'll just have to wait and see, won't you?

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**Chapter One**: Tough Fish in a Big Pond

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There was an empty road on the outskirts of the highly populated city of Wawanakwa. An old car bounced on the street, startling the distracted driver. Eva Vargra, a thirty-year-old detective, rubbed the back of her sore neck. It had been a long drive for her, nearly two days, with only a six hour stop to sleep at a motel. She glanced at her dashboard and sighed deeply, realizing that her gas tank was nearly empty.

If somehow the universe was trying to finally give her a break, Eva noticed that a small gas station with a convenience store was just a ways up the road.

Her journey had been a long one indeed. She had been transferred from British Columbia, where she had lived all her life. Her superiors had been so impressed with her dedication to her job and the work she had brought to the force that they opted to promote her ― as well as move her halfway across the country. The move hadn't been a huge deal for Eva, for she had no ties, romantic or platonic.

She pulled into the empty lot and parked right next to a gas pump. After taking a few moments to collect her thoughts, she opened the car door and stepped out. The detective moaned loudly as she stretched, for she had been sitting in the car for approximately sixteen hours. She cracked her entire body ― arms, legs, and all.

Eva was a woman of average height, but she was in almost perfect physical condition. In high school, while most of her fellow students were focused on climbing the social ladder, Eva had spent all of her spare time at the gym. This had made her look slightly masculine, but Eva did not care. In fact, she appreciated this fact, because it made her more intimidating.

She wore a white button down shirt under a navy jacket, which went to match with her pants. Her badge was visible, and hanging around her neck on a lanyard. While she was not required to wear this, she felt that it was both practical enough for physical endurance, yet also "formal" enough that she would be recognized as a detective. Her standard-issue Glock 19 was tightly packed in her leather holster.

While at first it appeared that there was nobody working at the gas station, Eva was relieved when she glanced over to see an attendant slowly approaching her. He was tall and as skinny as a rail, with bronze skin, although whether his skin tone came from ancestry or lifestyle was not immediately clear. He wore a pair of old jeans, but had on a green polo shirt with "Mike" embroidered in script font on the top of his shirt.

"How can I help you, ma'am?" the attendant asked, smiling politely.

Before she could respond, Eva was knocked down by a nervous man carrying a brown paper bag. Enraged, Eva stood up and shot a death glare at the man, who was sweating bullets. He was very pale and had shaggy brown hair. He was stammering for an apology, but was met with Eva's anger.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she snarled. "You pay for that stuff?"

"He did," the attendant assured her. "I saw him hand the cashier the money."

The nervous man flashed a receipt in Eva's face. "I've got the receipt for it too, eh. I'm sorry..."

Defeated, Eva shoved the receipt into the man's chest and muttered, "Just watch where you're going, okay?"

He nodded and quickly ran off into his car, which was old and black. He started the car and drove as fast as he could towards the city.

"Sorry about that," the attendant said, chuckling. "Now, how may I help you, ma'am?"

Eva was taken aback by his quick generosity, but took it with gratitude. "Hi, I just need a new fill up in my tank please."

The attendant nodded. "Premium or regular?" he asked, for this was obligatory to ask all customers.

"Regular," she replied, not looking up from the ground.

Nodding once again, the bean pole marched over to the gas pump, pulled the hose to the car and opened the fuel door cover.

"You're not from around here, are you, ma'am?" he asked, trying to make some conversation.

While normally not one for social interaction, Eva felt obligated to have conversation with the man who was giving her a public service. After all, Eva might have been antisocial and introverted, but she was by no means rude. "I'm a detective," she confirmed, "and I just got transferred from British Columbia."

The bronze skinned man smiled. "Isn't that just fine? Our fine city needs another strong detective."

Eva raised an eyebrow. "I didn't think the crime rate of this city was that high?"

"It most certainly is," the attendant laughed, not taking his eyes off the gas pump. "In fact, it's one of the highest."

"Then why is the force asking for a rookie who doesn't know the area all that well?" Eva asked, curious for the answer.

The gas station attendant said nothing for a few moments, for he was far too focused on finishing his job. He took the hose out of the fuel tank and placed it carefully back on the pump's hook. He then closed the fuel cover door and smiled at Eva.

"She's all filled up for you," the attendant replied. "Now, to answer your question... from what you've told me, you sound like the sort of woman who knows how to get things done. Now what _wouldn't_ the force want with a sort of woman like that?"

Eva hadn't considered this. She was a very determined woman, but the way she projected it was often misinterpreted as stubbornness. "Well, thank you. How much do I owe you?"

"Thirty even," the attendant replied with a click of his tongue.

"What the hell..." Eva muttered as she reached into her wallet, searching for the correct change.

He chuckled. "You might as well arrest me. These prices per gallon seem like a crime."

"They sure as shit are," the detective grumbled as she handed the attendant both a twenty and a ten dollar bill.

The attendant gladly took the money and stuffed it in the back pocket of his jeans. "Is there anything else I can do for you today, Detective?"

"If you could tell me how to get to the Central Police Station, that would be helpful," Eva said, a little harsher than she had intended.

"You'll see it a few kilometers after the first left into the city," the attendant explained. "It's just past the Tuck Shop and just before the high school."

Eva opened her car door and before she entered it, she turned back to the worker and said to him, "Thank you. Have a good day..." she prompted.

"My name is Mike," he replied, smiling. "And what might your name be?"

"Detective Eva Vargra," the dark-haired woman finally said, closing the door.

Mike nodded. "You have a good day, Detective. I'll be sure to give you a call if any hooligans try to rob my station."

"And I'll be sure to stop them," Eva said, without a hint of interest in her voice.

The detective ignited the ignition and after adjusting her rearview mirrors, slowly backed out of the lot. Her aging black sedan had squeaky breaks, which became apparent after Eva had to quickly stop in an attempt to not hit a bold squirrel. Luckily for the critter, Eva did not veer into it, and thus Eva drove back onto the road and made her way towards the city.

Relieved that she would once again have the chance to let her composition gather before embarking into the unfamiliar city, Eva sighed deeply and pressed her fingers against her temples.

Her acceptance of the position had not been completely involuntary, truth be told. Eva had been offered a substantial increase in yearly pay to take the transfer, so she gladly obliged. Selling her small apartment was easy enough, due to the current clamor for property, and finding a new one was even easier ― the department had reserved a decent apartment for their new transferee.

Eva wondered who her new partner would be. Her former partner, Leon Basset, was her antithesis. Whereas Eva was stubborn, determined, and no-nonsense, her partner was laid-back, people-oriented, and savvy. Nevertheless, they were able to put aside their differences ― and even, in some cases, use it to their advantage.

Would her new partner be her polar opposite, as Leon had been? Or perhaps they would be similar to her? Eva was not entirely sure if she wanted the latter or not. Even though Eva was very stubborn, she was self-aware and knew of her temper, and was unsure if she would be able to put up with someone who matched her short fuse.

Regardless of the personality of her partner, Eva knew one thing: she would _not_ be up for socializing with them outside of work. Eva was a very busy woman, and had no time for trivial things, such as "hanging out with friends" or "going to chat over a cup of coffee". Unless it was imperative to the case, Eva would likely refuse to be with her partner, or any other co-worker outside of work hours.

When Eva finally reached the inner part of the city, she felt her stomach drop. A horrible stench polluted her nostrils, even though she had the car windows rolled up all the way. Incredulous that this would be the smell of the entire city, Eva looked around, desperate to identify where the odor came from.

She took a sigh of relief when she realized that a manure truck was to her left. Putting her focus back on the road, Eva pressed the gas pedal once the light turned green and turned left, just as Mike had instructed her to.

The city itself was large, packed, and dense. Tall apartment buildings were around every corner and it seemed as if there was a coffee shop every three or so stores. The residents of the city were highly diverse in terms of gender, race, age, and ethnic or religious background. While New York City was the "great melting pot" of the United States, Wawanakwa City was its Canadian counterpart.

As Eva drove down the street, she looked around for the first landmark. She noticed a flashing red, white and blue light behind her, and soon her ears filled with the all-to-familiar sirens. Doing as she was legally and socially obliged to do, she pulled over to the side of the road and let the police cruiser pass. Eva peaked from behind her dashboard and noticed that her soon-to-be-colleagues were in hot pursuit of a black, older car.

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Eventually, Eva was able to find the Central Police Station. She pulled into the parking lot and parked her car in an empty and unreserved parking spot. Before getting out, she sighed deeply and checked her phone for the time ― it was just before eight o' clock. The dark-haired detective opened the door, got out of the car, and slammed the door shut.

She nonchalantly walked to the front of the building, opened the glass doors, and entered the building. Nobody had immediately greeted her, so she decided to be the instigator. Eva walked over to the front desk, where an older woman with light blonde hair and deep brown eyes was typing away at a computer.

"Ahem," Eva said, trying to get her attention.

The woman paid no attention to Eva and continued to type away at her computer.

Eva repeated, "Ahem," although this time louder.

When she was once again ignored by the rude woman, Eva slammed her fists on the desk and loudly said "ahem" once last time. The coffee on the secretary's desk had spilled, startling her. She glanced up from her computer as she blindly wiped up the spill with a handful of tissues.

Clearly annoyed, the secretary snarled, "May I help you, miss?"

Eva flashed her badge and said, "I'm the new transfer, Detective Eva Vargra. Where am I supposed to go?"

The secretary pushed her glasses against her nose and said quite rudely, "Go to the Chief of Police's office, Josh Birdman."

"And just _where_ exactly is that?" Eva asked, raising an eyebrow. "You know, you haven't exactly been very helpful, young annoying old―"

Before the secretary could say anything, a charismatic voice filled the air, laughing. "Ladies, ladies... Are we having some trouble already?"

A man in his mid-to-late forties approached to quarrelsome woman, and stuck out his hand to shake with Eva's, and she returned the handshake. The man was blue-eyed, in decent shape, and had black hair, which was grey along the sides. He wore a white button down shirt with navy pants with suspenders and a black tie. His shiny badge was in his front pocket.

"I'm Chief of Police, Josh Birdman," the man said, smiling. "You must be Detective Vargra. Welcome to homicide. Now, just so there are no surprises, it can get _really_ messy."

Eva chuckled, which was a rare thing for her to do, let alone smile. "Believe me, I know."

"I'll show you to your desk in a little while," Josh explained. "I'm sure you've loved to rest. You came from British Columbia. That's a long ways away."

"Two days," Eva said, as if it were nothing.

Neither of them said anything for a brief period of time. Unsure of what to do next, she asked, "So will I be assigned my first case soon?"

Josh nodded. "Actually, yes ― we just got a call from your new partner, Noah Britzman. A body has been found in the parking lot of a cupcake shop. And it's _not _pretty. Let's hope you didn't have a big lunch."

Luckily for Eva, she had nothing more than bottled water and a few protein bars. "How far away is the shop?" she asked, as she and Josh made their way out of the building.

"Down the street, actually," Josh confirmed, opening the door. "So it would actually be quicker if we walked. Your partner's vehicle is with him, so you two can use that for the time being."

Eva acknowledged his statement with a nod. After a few seconds of silence, Eva asked the question that she was dying to know the answer to. "Am I going to get along with this Noah Britzman or are he and I going to have a problem similar to the one I had with that annoying secretary?"

"Her name's Lorraine," Josh explained. "And yeah, she can be quite a pain, but she's sweet once you get to know her. Now, back to your question ― Detective Britzman has been a valuable asset to our department for the last decade. He is a hard worker and singlehandedly solved the Brown Dahila murder case six years ago."

"But..." Eva prompted.

Josh snickered. "He can be a real asshole," he said. "He's cynical, sarcastic, and is very hard to work with."

Eva raised an eyebrow. "I don't exactly play well with others myself," she admitted. "So why put the both of us together?"

"Because according to your file, you're a damn good detective," Josh told her, smiling. "And since Noah's been without a partner for a while, we'd like to see if he's grown more mature in his solitude."

With all possible topic of immediate conversation seemingly already spoken, Josh and Eva had a silent agreement to spend the remainder of their short trek in silence. As Josh mentally prepared himself for whatever sheer brutality he was to be faced with, Eva could not get her mind off of how her partner would treat her. And as far as Eva was concerned, he better damn well treat her with respect!

Not three minutes later, the duo reached their destination. A small, but welcoming cupcake shop presented itself. The exterior of the shop was primarily pink, which Eva scoffed at, and a large sign read "Katie's Kupcakes". While normally, the shop was bright and filled with customers, due to the police tape around the area, not a soul was present, excluding several officers and a handful of employees.

A pale and very overweight woman, who was only five years senior to Eva, approached the pair. She had brown hair in a ponytail and wore an outfit similar to that of Eva's, only hers was entirely maroon and dark red. The badge pinned on her breast was noticeably shinier than Eva's and it read "RCMP".

"Yeah, it's great to see you again, Birdman," the woman spoke. She had a slight accent, but its origin was unidentifiable. She turned to face Eva. "I'm Lieutenant Staci Andrews, RCMP."

Eva nodded. "Detective Eva Vargra," she introduced, and then extended her hand out to shake with Staci. "I'm the new transfer from British Columbia."

"You know, my great-great-great grandfather was the first person to ever transfer from there to here," Staci proudly proclaimed. "Before that, people just stayed there and never came here ― so sad."

Unsure if she believed Staci or not, Eva simply nodded politely, as she was trying her best not to mess up her first encounter with one of her superiors.

"Anyway, if you'll just follow me, I can show you to the body," Staci said as she walked into the parking lot. Eva and Josh followed her.

In the parking lot, there were four people already there ― although only three of them were alive. On the ground was a young woman with red hair and a pretty face. Her torso and legs were covered in blood, several of her teeth were missing, and one of her eyes had been torn out of its socket.

One of the living, was an Indian-American man who was thirty-seven odd years. He had dark brown hair with no identifiable style, deep brown eyes, and a deadpan expression on his face.

He wore a navy blue shirt with a red polo over it, a black jacket, brown pants, and black shoes. His badge, like Eva's was hanging over his neck by a lanyard. This was Eva's partner, Noah Britzman.

Another was Katie Perez, a young and pretty woman who was just out of college, at twenty-three years of age. Her skin tone was Caucasian, albeit deeply tanned. She had dark brown hair and eyes like Noah; however, she had her hair in a girlish ponytail.

The poor girl was trying her hardest to hold back tears, but was unable to do so. Her tears dripped off her face and stained her pink apron, which had the company's logo and name printed on it. Underneath, she wore a white tank top, blue jeans, and brown sandals.

The third and final was a beautiful girl who was a few years younger than Katie, but still looked old enough to be out of high school. She was tall, well-endowed, and had long blonde hair. She, like Katie, wore an apron, but wore a pair of blue short shorts and a red belly shirt underneath. One might mistake her for a woman of the night, if not for her innocent blue eyes. Her nametag read "Lindsay Crease".

Before Eva could say anything, Noah muttered, "So you must be my new partner. Glad to meet you."

Not in the mood for small talk, Eva said plainly, "What's the story with this mess?"

Noah shuddered. "It's just disgusting. Her name is Zoey Alvis, a senior at Wawanakwa High School. She also worked at this cupcake shop. Miss Perez has told us that the last she saw Alvis was when she had her lock the shop up last night. When she came to open up this morning, she saw this mess in the parking lot."

"Have you found anything like DNA or evidence pointing to who this sick fuck might be?" Eva asked, raising an eyebrow. She approached the body and examined it, but was careful not to touch it, as doing so would contaminate the evidence.

The dark-skinned man shook his head. "None, as of yet ― we're going to send the body to the Coroner's Office after we've all had a nice long look at it."

Eva approached the shop owner and pulled out a small notebook and a pen.

"Now, is there anyone who might have wanted to do this to Zoey Alvis?" Eva asked, clicking her pen.

Katie sniffled and nodded. "Yes. A few, actually ― the first is the woman who owns the other cupcake shop around the block. I don't know if she is capable of murder, but killing one of my employees is sure to hurt my business, don't you think? Her name is Sadie Corlette. She runs Sadie's Sweets."

The detective nodded. Noah, who was now standing beside Eva asked, "Who else? You said there were a few people."

"A man," Katie confirmed. "He runs that creepy cult across town. He was a regular here at the shop and he took a real interest in Zoey. But it didn't seem like he was madly in love with her or anything. I don't know why he wanted to be only served by her, but it sure was weird."

Noah groaned. "Oh my god, not this lunatic again..." he face-palmed and groaned again.

"Who is this psycho?" Eva asked, annoyed.

"His name is Trent Freeman," Noah explained, equally annoyed. "He worships the number nine and is obsessed with anything and anyone that has to do with that number. I don't know if he is capable of murder, but he sure as hell fits the bill for every stereotypical sociopathic killer I've ever encountered."

Eva turned back to Katie. "Is there anyone else that could be a suspect?"

The cupcake show owner shook her head and sniffled. "I'm glad I could be of help."

"Thank you for your bravery," Noah said half-sincerely. "As soon as we clear the body out of here, we can let you get back to your business."

The blonde woman, Lindsay, approached the detectives. "Um, I think I might have something that could be relevant."

Noah clicked his pen. "Then please, do tell."

"So I have a younger sister, Paula, and she went to school with Zoey," Lindsay explained. "And Paula told me that last year, Zoey reported Lighting for using drugs and that got him booted from the football team. His girlfriend, Anne Maria was real pissed too. I don't know either of them, but it's worth looking into."

"'Lightning'?" Eva asked, incredulous to the name.

Noah scoffed. "I know the kid. His real name is Julius Thompson. I was actually the one who arrested his stupid ass."

"And who is 'Anne Maria'?" asked Eva, who was disgusted with the name.

"Her family name was Sayers," Lindsay said, nodding. "My sister and I are real close, as you can see."

Eva did not smile, but looked at Lindsay with gratitude. "Thank you for your help. You might be helping a sick twisted fuck be put behind bars."

The employee nodded and then went back over to her grieving employer, who was giving her final statement to Staci.

"Patrol will take care of the body," Noah told Eva, who was quickly finishing writing down what Lindsay had told them. "So, who do you want to go visit first ― the cupcake girl, the cultist, or the druggie and his girlfriend?"

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**End of Chapter One**.

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**Author's Note**: Well, that took me about three days to write and about two weeks of planning, but I was finally able to pull this together. Please, for the love of God, let me know what you think. This is a completely foreign type of fan fiction that I am used to writing and I would really appreciate the feedback.

Oh, and just to be clear: this story is going to get _**dark**_. There will be things far worse than what has happened on Total Drama (excluding All-Stars. Nothing is as brutal as that monstrosity.) So sorry if you liked Zoey, it's just that her character I felt was the most fitting to the situation and I had no real storyline purpose for her other than being killed off in chapter one... It's only PARTLY because I hate her.

This story is projected to be dozens and dozens of chapters. The story will not end after the murder case of Zoey is solved; new storylines and cases will be introduced and new central characters will have their own story arcs. And by the way, the **Josh** that is the Chief of Police is the same Josh from **Celebrity Manhunt**.

Well, thank you for taking time to read this story!


	2. Breaking Mad

_**The Wawanakwa Tales**_

**Disclaimer**: The rights of _Total Drama Island_ belong to its distributors; Teletoon, Cartoon Network, Fresh TV, and Cake Entertainment. The characters of Chris McLean, Chef Hatchet, Josh, and the thirty-eight original contestants of the first five seasons belong to the aforementioned companies.

Oh, and I am writing this purely for entertainment and no monetary gain.

**Author's Note**: Thank you, everybody, for reviewing last chapter. I appreciate it. Anyway, I apologize for the long wait for an update, but finals have _just_ ended, so now I can put my focus on updating this story. Also, I am now half-way through my high school career. Two years down, two to go. God help me...

So who do you think the murderer is? After this chapter, all of the suspects will be posted in the poll, and as new suspects are brought to attention, there will be new options added.

I want to give credit to **Jamie** for coming up with all of the last names and a few plot points here and there, such as the addition of Lightning as a suspect.

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**Chapter Two**: Breaking Mad

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**(Flashback - Last Night, Katie's Kupcakes)**

_Lindsay leaned against the counter, drumming her fingers anxiously on edge of the cash register. She kept staring at the clock, as if waiting for something to happen. __The clock read half past nine, and although it was only thirty minutes until closing time, to Lindsay it seemed liked an eternity. _

_Her tapping seemingly became louder, as it grabbed the attention of her boss. She smiled, but did not divert her attention from what she was doing._

_"Have you got somewhere to be, Linds?" asked Katie who was counting coins in the tip jar. "You know, it's almost time to go anyway. I could just let you go now if you really want to."_

_"Really?" Lindsay asked excitedly. "That would be, like, so awesome!"_

_Katie nodded and smiled at her employee and friend. "Like, don't keep me in suspense. What's his name? ... If you remember."_

_"Now what makes you so sure that I'm meeting a guy?" Lindsay asked innocently. The blush on her cheeks was rivaled only by the color of her lips. _

_"Because I know you," Katie said, giggling. "Now come on, spill the beans."_

_Lindsay blushed an even darker red. "His name is Tyler and he is, like, so sweet. I met him at the sports store when I was buying some sports bras. He's nice, funny, and a super-hunk!"_

_Katie rolled her eyes in amusement. "Then what are you still doing here for?" she asked jokingly. "Go on, and then text me how it went!"_

_The blonde clapped her hands in excitement and quickly took off her apron and placed it on the appropriate hook. Seconds later, she was out the door. The sound of a car engine starting could be heard and this was soon followed by an abrupt screeching of tires on the road._

_"I hope she doesn't get hurt again," Zoey said as she put on her denim jacket. "Don't you remember the last guy she went out on a date with? Where did she meet him, Match dot com?"  
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_Katie nodded and shuddered in disgust. "Just be happy that he was some asshole cheating on his wife and not some psycho murderer."_

_"Good thing," Zoey said, laughing. "And isn't there some website already meant for cheating? Ashley something?"_

_"Ashley Madison," confirmed Katie, who had now finished counting the tips. "The only reason I know is because this Goth girl from my high school works there. She's one of the top developers."_

_Zoey raised an eyebrow. "Good for her... I think."_

_"Anyway," Katie said, putting on her sweatshirt. "Would you mind closing up? I've got to get home and feed my cat."_

_The redheaded girl nodded. "Sure thing. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"_

_"Yup," Katie said as she headed out the door. "See ya."_

_Before she could lock up for the night, Zoey made sure to turn off all the lights and make sure no windows were open. When she was sure that her tasks were completed, she first locked the back door, the emergency exit, and finally made her way to the front door. _

_She walked out of the store and shut the doors. Before she locked them, she noticed a person standing on the parking lot, approaching her._

_"Sorry," she said, "but we're closed for tonight. We open up at..."_

_That was the last thing Zoey said before a metal spoon was shoved into her eye socket. _

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Noah did not wait for his new partner to respond to his question; he walked over to the not moving corpse and bent down to examine it. He paused for a moment and then leaned in for a closer look. The dark-haired man gingerly reached into the jacket pocket of the deceased woman. He pulled out her medium-sized pink pocketbook and opened it; her student identification, debit card, and the cash she had on her, about fifty dollars, were brandished to the stoic detective.

He turned to face Eva, who had been watching Noah with curiosity, and said to her, "The motive was not robbery. Her cash and debit card were both still there."

"So you're telling me that this wasn't some mugging gone wrong?" Eva asked, although she already knew the answer.

"That's right," Noah said, sighing heavily. "This is some sick fuck who did this on their own accord."

Eva groaned and smacked her forehead. "Anyway, before we go visit any of those suspects, we should notify her family. Check her license for an address."

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In the morning, on any normal given day, Zoey would have gone to school whilst her parents, who were both still working even in their older age, went to earn their daily bread. However, this was not any normal given day. Zoey had not returned home after going to school, and from there she went straight to work. Both had received text messages from their daughter explaining that she was to lock the store up. They became concerned when the hour became late, well after the shop had always closed.

Zoey's father, Stephan was pacing nervously around the room. When he nor his wife found any sign of Zoey returning home in the wee hours of the morning, they had called the police and filed a missing person's report. It had been a half an hour since Stephan made the call, and he was understandably very upset.

His wife and Zoey's mother, Patricia, wasn't much better off. Zoey was her youngest child, the runt of her litter of nine, so she was very protective of her last "baby". Her other children were either in college or had been out for some time. Patricia was tearing her hair out in anxiety over her missing daughter.

The knock at the door was an answer to their prayers.

Stephan answered the door in the blink of the eye and was relieved to see two detectives, Noah Britzman and Eva Vargra, as their identification indicated standing outside the door.

"Mr. Alvis," said Noah, who had a hint of regret in his voice. "I'm Detective Britzman and this is my partner, Detective Vargra. May we come in?"

"This is about our daughter," Stephan said hopefully. His face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Please, come in."

Patricia bit her lip in worry. "Tell us our daughter is alright, please!" she begged.

Before Noah or Eva replied, both of them took a seat on the couch, whilst Stephan and Patricia sat on two chairs facing the two detectives. Eva looked at Noah, who nodded as if he understood what she was trying to tell him.

"We're sorry to have to tell you this," Noah said, sighing lightly. "But your daughter's body was found outside her place of work and there are signs of foul play."

Stephan looked like he wanted to die.

"I cannot even begin to understand what you're going through right now," Noah said, offering a sincere look of sadness. "But for us to find the monster who did this to your daughter, we need to ask you two a few questions."

"We can do that," Stephan said as he pulled his wife's hand closer to his.

Noah pulled out his notepad and prepared to write down any important details. "When was the last time you saw or contacted your daughter?"

"Right before she left for school," said Patricia, who was trying her hardest to hold back tears. "When she works, Zoey w-would always go straight there."

"I sent her a text during the day, around lunchtime," her husband added in. His voice was now very weak. "I asked her what she wanted for dinner."

The detective nodded and wrote down the important details.

Eva cleared her throat and said, "Did she have any enemies?" she asked with a rather straight-forward tone.

Stephan was very taken back by her abruptness. "What? No, our daughter was loved by everyone she knew! She was sweet, and smart, and... oh God."

He broke down into tears and leaned onto his wife's shoulder for support. She was not in any better or worse shape, as tears were slowly rolling down her cheeks.

"What my partner means is," Noah said much more softly, "is do you know of anyone who might want to hurt your daughter? Did she ever have any problems at school?"

"There was the issue with the Thompson boy last year," Patricia answered as she dried her face with a tissue.

Noah raised an eyebrow. "Julius Thompson?" he asked.

"Yes," said Patricia. "He was caught using drugs and our daughter reported him. She... she always wanted to do the right thing."

"His girlfriend wasn't very happy about it either," her husband said weakly. "Her name is Anne Maria... I don't know her last name."

Eva and Noah stood up after finishing writing down the parent's statements.

"Thank you both for your bravery," said Noah. "We will contact you later on the matter. Call us if you remember anything else that might help us."

The grieving man acknowledged him with a respectful nod and stood up. He extended his hand forward, and Noah shook it, as did Eva. Patricia tossed her tissue onto the nearby side table shook the detective's hands after her husband. Eva quickly stood up and her partner followed. They walked over to the door and opened it, and finally walked out.

"Now, I'll repeat my question," Noah said. "Do we want to visit the cultist, the other shop owner, or the druggie?"

"Our biggest lead is on the kid and his girlfriend," Eva mused. "Let's go and make him answer a few questions."

Noah touched her shoulder. "Easy. If we're too rough, we can risk him not talking. We've got to be careful about this. Drug dealers and users can be _very_ dangerous."

* * *

A man with orange hair let out a rather effeminate giggle as he prepared his bong for use. Thirty-year-old Scott Corrigan reached into the pocket of his worn-out jeans and pulled out a lighter. He also wore a dirty white tank top and nondescript boots.

"This is going to be an awesome trip!" he said, laughing.

A hand slapped the bong out of his grip, and before Scott could react in any way, the same hand slapped him in the face.

"Aah!" Scott screamed as he quickly bent down to retrieve his fallen bong. "Not cool, dude!"

"Really?" scoffed a man who seemed to be around the same age as Scott. "You're trying to get stoned _now_, right before a deal?"

Scott stammered nervously. "Um... I was just testing the product?"

"You're an even bigger idiot than I thought," he grumbled. "We're not even selling pot at this deal, we're selling that crystal we made."

"Come on, Duncan, what's a little kush going to do?"

Duncan Tice was a tall, muscular, and menacing man. He had several face piercings and a gauge on his left ear, and his black hair was buzzed. He wore a black t-shirt, the better to show off his sleeve of tattoos. His brown cargo shorts were very tattered, but his expensive-looking sneakers had not a speck of dirt on them.

"A little kush is fine... if you want to get yourself killed," snarked Duncan. "So if you want to kill yourself, please, use a gun or some shit. Leave me the shit, so I can sell it or smoke it... when I'm _not on the damn job_!"

Scott stood up and dusted himself off. He shot daggers at Duncan. "Okay, just relax, okay? I didn't even smoke any of it."

"Good."

Moments of silence passed before either of them said anything. Finally, Duncan blurted out:

"Anyway, what did you do with the body?" he asked casually, as if discussing the weather.

Scott shrugged. "I just left it there," he chuckled, "can't wait to see the damn thing rot."

Enraged at his partner's stupidity, Duncan's eyes widened. He groaned and smacked his forehead before smacking Scott too. "Did your mom drop you on your head when you were a baby? WHY would you leave the body?!"

"Um, because it was heavy..."

"They couldn't have been more than eighty pounds," Duncan grumbled. "That skinny weasel almost got us busted... and they paid... but we ain't taking the heat for this shit."

Scott rubbed the back of his neck, which was now dripping in sweat. "So are we going to the deal or the body?"

"The body, obviously," Duncan snarled. "I'll text Lightning and tell him the deal is postponed. He'll understand."

"You think so?" Scott asked as he grabbed his car keys.

Duncan nodded. "He's just a kid. It's not like he's going to do anything to us. So just take us to the body already. You better hope the WCPD isn't there already."

The two drug dealers quickly ran out of the house and slammed the door. Scott entered the old looking truck on the driver's side and Duncan on the passenger's. Quickly, Scott ignited the engine and slammed on the gas pedal and started driving towards their destination.

* * *

Julius Thompson, or as he liked to be called, "Lightning", was relaxing in his hot tub as he sighed in relief. He was young, just shy of his nineteenth birthday, and very muscular, which came from four years of being the star football player at his high school.

Although he was born in Canada, his ancestry came from Africa. He had a lightning bolt necklace around his neck. Whether he obtained the nickname due to the necklace or vice versa was unclear. He also had his nickname tattooed on his left forearm.

His phone buzzed and he reached over to the side table and grabbed it. He saw that he had a new text and his face lit up when he saw who the contact was. However, his smile faded when he read what the text actually said.

"Mother fucker!" he grumbled as he threw the cell phone against the wall.

A girl came from under the water, and she was very close to Lightning's lap. She wiped her mouth and said, "What's wrong, babe?"

"Duncan just told me we've got to wait a bit before the sha-deal goes down," he reported. "Something about personal business."

The girl, who looked to be the same age as Lightning, rolled her eyes, which were covered in mascara. She was Caucasian, but had darkish skin due to numerous spray tans, and black hair. She was wearing bikini shorts, but she was not wearing a top and her breasts were exposed. Her name as Anne Maria.

"You know Duncan, he'll give you the stuff," Anne Maria told him. "Whatever he's doing, you knows we shouldn't be getting mixed up in it. What if like, he stabbed a man?"

Lightning chuckled. "Come on, sugar, Duncan isn't about that. He's just a drug dealer, manufacturer, and user."

Satisfied with his reasoning, Anne Maria went behind her boyfriend. "You wanna have a go, babe?" she asked, rubbing her his shoulders.

Lightning shook his head. "In a bit, I've got to do some sha-business."

Anne Maria nodded. "I'll meet you in the bedroom."

The Italian-Canadian girl started walking into the kitchen to first get herself a drink, but stopped dead in her tracks when she looked out the window by the front door: a police car had pulled up in front of the house and two detectives were getting out.

"Lightning!" Anne Maria screamed, as she ran through the house, back to the hot tub. "Get the hell out of here! The cops are coming!"

"What did I do?" Lightning wondered, confused. His eyes widened suddenly and gasped. "Oh shit, they must be here for last night..."

Anne Maria's color faded from her face and she swallowed nervously. "That means we'd both be going to the big house."

The former jock quickly jumped out of the hot tub and took off his trunks. Even in moments of desperation, Anne Maria found herself staring at his manhood. He didn't bother drying off, he just slid on a pair of underpants and basketball shorts. He picked up a dirty t-shirt from the ground and put it on, and finally slid on a pair of soccer sliders.

While he did this, Anne Maria quickly put on a tight-fitting tank top and slid on a pair of denim short-shorts over her bathing suit bottoms, and quickly walked into a pair of sandals. The two of them grabbed their phones and made their way to the back window.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Anne Maria gasped in fear and tried to climb out the small window.

"Oh, maybe it's that pizza we ordered last night," he guessed as he walked towards the front door.

"That was last night!" Anne Maria screamed.

Lightning nodded. "So, then it's free now. Thirty minutes or less, my ass!"

He opened the door and frowned when he saw neither pizza nor delivery boy. "Yo, where's my pizza?"

Noah raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Julius Thompson?"

"I prefer 'Lightning'," said Lighting, who did jazz hands as he announced his nickname.

Not amused, Noah repeated, "Julius? We are with the WCPD, and we'd like to have a few words with you, if that's o-"

He paused when he saw Anne Maria desperately trying to get out of the window. "Is that a prostitute?"

"That's my girlfriend!" Lightning said defensively.

Eva shoved passed both of the men and stormed to where Anne Maria was.

"Okay, princess," she barked, "get out of the damn window and show me your hands."

Realizing she was beat, Anne Maria sighed and did as she was instructed. Eva inspected her and show no weapons were on her, so she frowned and said, "Go sit on the couch."

Noah nodded. "You do the same, Julius," he said.

The two lovers sat next to each other on the couch and faced Eva and Noah, who were standing on the opposite side of the coffee table.

"You two are familiar with a Zoey Alvis?" asked Noah, who clicked his pen.

Lightning nodded. "Yeah, I know that bitch. She... we used to go to school with her, why?"

"This morning, her body was found outside her place of work," Eva informed them, with a tone of anger. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Shocked, Lightning didn't say anything, but only blinked.

"Mr. Thompson?" Noah asked, trying to get his attention. He snapped a few times before he was able to get his attention back.

"Sorry," Lightning apologized. "I was just a little sha-shocked. I knew her. I didn't like her, but I knew her. I mean... shit."

Eva clicked her pen and turned to Anne Maria. "Okay, what's your name?"

"I'm Anne Maria Sayers," she replied as she played with her hair. "I'm his girlfriend, not some cheap whore."

"And you were familiar with Zoey, too?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Anne Maria nodded. "Yeah, we used to chill. That was until... something happened."

"What happened?" asked Noah.

"It was nothing," Anne Maria said nervously. "Just some schoolgirl shit."

Noah shook his head. "Well," he said. "That's not what we heard. According to you boyfriend's police records and an anonymous source, your boyfriend was convicted of using performance-enhancing drugs and Zoey told the police."

Lightning sighed deeply. "Yeah, it's true. That dumb bitch cost me being on the team and my scholarship to the University of Mississippi."

"So you understand why we suspected you two in this act?" Eva asked angrily.

"Wait, _that's _why you two are here?" Lightning asked, chuckling. "Shit, well we both have an alibi."

Eva raised a brow. "Which is?"

"We got this older chick to buy us beer in exchange for a three way," Lightning told them.

Angry and embarrassed, Anne Maria punched her boyfriend on the chest. Her cheeks were now as red as her lips. "You idiot! Why would you tell them that?"

"Because I'm pretty sure underage drinking isn't as bad as murder!" Lightning snapped. "It's... not, right?"

Noah, although disgusted, managed to ask, "Who is this woman? She can confirm this story?"

"I don't know her name," said Anne Maria, "but she worked at that sex shop."

"Lovely," Noah grumbled, rolling his eyes. "Thank you for your time. If your story checks out, we won't bother you two anymore."

Eva scoffed. "What about their little drinking party last night? We have to arrest them."

"Come on, I'm on probation!" Lightning complained.

"They're in enough trouble already," Noah explained, "and besides, if they're telling the truth, then they helped out the WCPD. That's enough of a 'pass'."

"You're serious?" Eva grumbled. "Fine, let's just get out of here."

As they headed to the door, Noah called out to them, "You'll hear from us. If your story checks out, just try to stay out of trouble. And if it doesn't, then don't try to run, or you'll be in a lot MORE trouble."

Lightning and Anne Maria both nodded. With that, both Eva and Noah exited the house and made their way towards the car.

"Do you believe that story?" Noah asked his partner.

"She seemed slutty enough to have a three way," Eva explained. "But we're going to the sex shop anyway to make sure. Should we go there first or go to another one of the suspects?"

Noah shrugged. "We might as well get these two kids out of the way as soon as possible. Let's just go to the... sex shop."

* * *

An old red truck pulled into a driveway, where a white Prius was already parked. The house connected to the driveway seemed very nice-looking, except for the broken front window that stuck out like a sore thumb. Other than that, the house seemed rather ordinary.

Scott and Duncan exited the car and quickly walked over to the front door.

"You broke the window, you idiot?" Duncan scowled. "Why would you do that?"

"Um, because the door was locked," replied Scott. He rolled his eyes and jiggled the front door knob.

To his surprise and Duncan's anger, a light clicking sound was heard and the door slowly opened. Scott laughed and grinned sheepishly. He walked into the house while Duncan followed behind him, mumbling various curse words and idle threats.

"Where is it?" Duncan hissed. "On the roof for everyone to see?"

"No," Scott snarled, offended. "He's in the kitchen. He had a little... cooking accident."

Duncan rolled his eyes. "Whatever. You know, sometimes I think that you don't... wait... _he_?"

The red-headed drug dealer nodded. "Yeah. That idiot that almost got us caught. I killed him, just like you said."

"_HIM_?" Duncan screamed, furious.

"... Was it not a him?"

Amazed at Scott's stupidity once again, Duncan kicked him in the balls. Scott moaned and fell to the ground.

"You're even more retarded than I thought!" he barked. "I told you _exactly_ where this chick worked and what she looked like. And you kill some dude on the other side of town?"

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" Scott apologized. "Just help me with the body, okay?"

Duncan groaned and stormed in to the kitchen where he almost threw up upon seeing the corpse.

A young teenager, who seemed to be African-American, laid on the ground. There was glass in his eyes from where his broken glasses used to be. His nose was broken and a bloody rolling pin laid on the ground next to him. His bloody sweatshirt said "Cameron" on the front. There were several stab wounds around his abdomen, but that wasn't the worst of it.

All but one of his fingers was missing and cut off, as well as all but one of his toes.

"You're one sick fuck," Duncan hissed. "What's wrong with just a bullet to the head?"

Scott raised an eyebrow. "You're the one who told me to make it look like someone else did it! So, I chose to frame that psycho nine cultist!"

"Do me a favor and tell me you are retarded," Duncan grumbled. "Because that would make everything make a whole lot more sense."

Ignoring the insult, Scott asked his partner, "So what do we do with the body?"

"Put it in the trunk and cover it with blankets," he replied. "We can dump it in Lake Wawanakwa."

The two men put on kitchen gloves that the boy thankfully had lying around and lifted his corpse and quickly ran outside. They were about to put it in the trunk, when a female voice screamed at them several times. Scott nearly lost his balance and almost dropped the body, but Duncan kept his cool until he saw who was screaming.

An overweight woman with brown hair pulled out a gun and pointed at the two men, yelling at them to stop. Although Scott and Duncan did not know her, she was a high-ranking official on the RCMP, Staci Andrews.

"RCMP!" she screamed. "Stop or I will shoot!"

Scott got ready to put his hands up, but Duncan had other ideas.

He pulled a pistol out from his waistband and fired his gun before Staci could even react. A loud thud was heard and Duncan and Scott watched as Staci's lifeless body fell to the ground. Scott gasped and stared as blood trickled from the gunshot hole on Staci's forehead and fell onto the sidewalk.

Duncan chuckled. "Looks like your little victim will have a travelling companion. Come on, help me with this quick."

...

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* * *

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**End of Chapter Two.**

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* * *

**Author's Note**: Well, I hope that ending was sufficiently shocking. Staci was introduced as a major character and then was abruptly killed off. And if didn't catch it, the wrong victim killed by Scott was none other than Cameron. Nobody really liked him anyway, so I hope I won't get death threats for killing him.

Also, season six is starting on the 7th. That makes me very nervous, because I am going to assume that this season is either going to be really, really good or really, really bad. Here's hoping it won't be as bad as All-Stars was. Well, I'm going to try and be optimistic.

That ends another chapter in this story. Let me know what you think. Do you like the addition of Scott and Duncan as the third and fourth main characters? Their narrative purpose serves as a contrast to the order and lawfulness that Eva Noah provide with the chaos and crime that Duncan and Scott will bring.

Well, thank you for taking time to read this story!


	3. The Ninth God

_**The Wawanakwa Tales**_

**Disclaimer**: The rights of _Total Drama Island_ belong to its distributors; Teletoon, Cartoon Network, Fresh TV, and Cake Entertainment. The characters of Chris McLean, Chef Hatchet, Josh, and the thirty-eight original contestants of the first five seasons belong to the aforementioned companies.

Oh, and I am writing this purely for entertainment and no monetary gain.

**Author's Note**: I hope you all had a very happy Fourth of July, if you live in the United States; mine was pretty good. Anyway, thank you all for the reviews last chapter, it meant a lot. Those of you who left constructive criticism, I appreciate it.

The next season is tomorrow, or has already aired, depending on when you read this. I for one am excited for that, but also cautious. But from what I've heard, it's not going to be awful like last season was.

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* * *

**Chapter Three**: The Ninth God

* * *

Blaineley rolled her eyes in what appeared to be disgust, but the slight smirk on her lips suggested she was more amused than repulsed. At the sex shop where she worked, there was no doubt that Blaineley came across numerous weirdos and perverts. None of them, however, surpassed the oddness that her business partner possessed.

"That will be one seventy-four fifty," the red-headed young woman proclaimed, "and if you buy another one of those, your next purchase of lube is free!"

The customer, a dark-haired man with a collared shirt, swallowed nervously. "Yeah, maybe next time. D-do you take credit cards?"

"We sure do," she said with a nod and a wink. She took the man's credit card, swiped it, had him sign his name on the scanner, and then handed it back to him.

He mumbled a nervous "thank you" and walked out the door, but almost walked into the wall. He was unable to take his eyes off either Blaineley or her partner, who was giggling like a school girl.

She went by the name of Izzy, a common name for an exceptionally uncommon girl. Her oddness was characterized by her clothing, a tight green tank top that exposed a fair amount of cleavage, and pair of dark green short shorts that showed off her long legs. Her orange hair was slightly shorter on one end, but not noticeably.

Her business partner dressed even less conservatively than she did. Blaineley wore a tight red tube top and black leggings with leather boots. Then main reason for their choice in outfit was to increase business.

The majority of their customers were male, so having two attractive females wearing revealing clothing helped quite a bit to bring in their daily bread.

While Izzy was a young woman, somewhere in her mid-twenties, Blaineley looked just as young, but she was well into her thirties. Her long blonde hair and blue eyes also helped give off the impression that she was more youthful than she truly was.

Seconds after their customer left, two more people entered their store. However, they did not posses the same demeanor that many of their customers did. One was a man with brown skin and a deadpan expression. The other was a dark-haired woman in desperate need of having her eyebrows plucked.

"Can I help you two lovebirds today?" Izzy asked, smirking seductively.

The man furrowed his brow and sighed deeply. "Ma'am, we are with the WCPD. Is there a woman who is significantly older than you that works here?"

Izzy nodded her head. She turned to her right and shouted, "Blaineley!"

"Um, I'm right here, Izzy," Blaineley pointed out, "you don't have to yell."

"I LIKE YELLING!"

Eva blinked several times before she finally said "Ma'am, we would like to ask you a few questions."

"What do you need, officers?" Blaineley asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Two people are suspected in the murder of a young girl," Noah explained, "and their alibi claims they were with you last night."

Blaineley nodded.

"These are their pictures," Eva explained. The two of them had visited the police headquarters and retrieved their mugshots beforehand. "Do you recognize them?"

The blonde woman's eyes widened. "These kids killed some poor girl?"

Noah shook his head. "They're suspects. However, if you can confirm that you were with them last night, they'll be exonerated."

"Oh, and they mentioned you bought them beer," Eva snarled. "You know they were underage right?"

Blaineley gasped. "What? They said they were both eighteen... I... I... I... I'm not a sexual deviant!"

"Relax," Noah said, rolling his eyes. "They _were_ eighteen, so it wasn't illegal for you to have sex with them. However, they were eighteen, meaning it was illegal for you to buy them alcohol. The legal drinking age here is nineteen."

"They just told me they forgot their id's," Blaineley said. "Look, yes. I was with them last night. Besides, neither of them struck me as vicious killers."

Izzy yawned rather loudly, grabbing the attention of both detectives and her partner.

"Is there something you would like to add, miss?" asked Eva, who raised a brow curiously.

"There sure is," the red-haired girl said, winking. "Could I interest either of you in some handcuffs? If you buy two, you get one free!"

Noah sighed in annoyance. "No. Thank you, ma'am, but we already have police-issued pairs."

Izzy giggled. "They aren't for _arresting_ people, silly."

"But what other practical use would they serve?"

Eva, not at all amused rolled her eyes. "Noah, it's a goddamn sex shop. What the hell do you _think_?"

"I can think of a couple of ways," Izzy said, popping her head between the two detectives. "Say, maybe the four of us can use them together?"

"You need to be spayed our something," Blaineley mused.

Izzy snickered. "Hey," she said. "You were the one who had a threesome last night!"

Eva coughed rather loudly. "Well, we don't need anything else from you two ladies. Have a good night."

"Is it night already?" Noah asked aloud. He looked at his wristwatch and sighed in relief. "It's almost ten." He turned to Eva. "Good news. You survived your first day."

"Thank God," the she-detective grumbled as she and Noah exited the shop. "We'll go visit that cultist psycho first thing tomorrow."

Noah approached the car and asked Eva, "You want me to drop you off at your apartment or house or wherever you live?"

"My luggage and bags are back in my car at the station," Eva told him. "If you could just drop me off there, that would be great."

He nodded and entered the car, with Eva doing the same.

* * *

"How the hell did you manage to get sulfuric acid?" Scott asked as he carefully lifted Staci's corpse into the plastic bin.

"Let's just say I stayed in touch with my high school Chemistry teacher," Duncan told him as he helped with the body. "And let's just _also_ say that he was very happy to accept two thousand dollars for the barrels and to keep his mouth shut... By the way, I took two thousand dollars from your stash."

Scott tightened his grip on Staci's right leg. "Why are we doing this again? Didn't you say we were going to dump them in Lake Wawanakwa?"

"I changed my mind," Duncan said through his teeth. "Besides, we can dump this shit in the lake and be done with it. That way, no bodies turn up."

"This is a hell of a lot messier though," Scott muttered as he shoved Staci's leg into the bin.

Duncan rolled his eyes. "First of all, _you're_ the reason we had to do this shit in the first place. Secondly, like I said, this will have a zero percent chance of anything coming back to us."

Still not convinced, Scott sighed deeply as he held the second plastic bin in place as Duncan shoved Cameron's corpse into it. This was significantly easier, as Cameron was lighter and did not require two people to lift his body.

Both men put on their rubber gloves and face masks before unscrewing the top to the sulfuric acid. Duncan did not trust Scott to handle the acid, so he had Scott hold the bins in place while he himself would pour the barrel into said bins.

"So what made you think of this in the first place?" Scott asked his partner.

"I saw it on _Breaking_ _Bad_," Duncan admitted.

That got Scott's attention. His ears perked up and he said, "Dude, I love that show!"

"You better not spoil shit for me," the dark haired criminal scowled. "I'm only on season three."

Scott nodded in acknowledgement as he continued to steady the bin.

When Duncan had finished pouring the acid into the bins, he quickly tossed Staci's cell phone and gun and Cameron's cell phone and wallet into the bin as well before shutting the lid onto both bins. Scott picked up one of the barrels and Duncan the other, and they placed them very carefully into the back of Scott's truck.

Little did Duncan know, something of significance fell out of his pockets before he could put it in the barrel: Staci's badge, still bloodstained, fell onto the ground.

* * *

Noah's car pulled into the police station, but did not remain stationary for any longer than thirty seconds. Eva stepped out of the car and shook hands with Noah. He glanced over at the wall adjacent to the two of them and scoffed, and then said goodbye once more before he got back into his vehicle.

After Noah drove off, Eva looked behind her to see what had aggravated Noah. Sure enough, there was Josh leaning against what was presumably his own car. A woman was leaning against the wall and she appeared to be speaking with Josh. Although Eva didn't care at all, she assumed that she should speak with her boss before leaving for the night.

As she approached him, the conversation between Josh and the unknown woman became more clear.

"Listen, I'll call you later-" he paused when he saw the woman make a face and then quickly said, "to let you know the details of the case."

Josh quickly turned around and saw Eva, although his face remained neutral. "Ah, Detective Vargra. How was your first day on the job?"

"I didn't die so that's a relief," Eva said, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, you said that you would show me to my office?"

The woman coughed and walked over to the two detectives. "Hi," she said. "I might as well introduce myself. I'm a detective here, too. I'm Courtney Sebelia, and I work at the arson desk."

Courtney was a very young woman, with her age being clearly somewhere in her early twenties. She had ambiguously light brown skin, dark brown eyes, and chestnut hair. She was very pretty and wore a very conservative outfit: a white blouse, a grey sweater, and navy khaki pants.

"Nice to meet you," Eva said, for although she had no interest in meeting anymore new people, she did not want to be rude, especially in front of her boss.

"Anyway, I'll call you later about the... case," Josh said to Courtney, and then he awkwardly shook her hand. "Eva, I can show you to your office, okay?"

Before Eva responded, the pretty detective said goodbye to both Josh and Eva and then walked over to her own car, a red sedan, and entered it. She quickly drove out of the parking lot, narrowly hitting a fire hydrant on her way out. After that, Eva went to her own car, opened the trunk, and took out a medium sized crate with her belongings.

Josh led Eva into the station and the latter shot a nasty glare at Lorraine, who was having a conversation on the phone at the time. He led her down the hall and at the very end was a door that had the former name scratched off. A can of paint was in the bottom corner so one could assume that Eva's name would be added to the door soon enough.

"You can put whatever you want in here," Josh told her. "We've already got you a desk and a phone ready."

"I appreciate this," Eva said as she placed the crate on the desk.

The Chief nodded and extended his hand out for Eva to shake. "I hope your second day will be as good as your first. Have a good night, Vargra."

After he left, Eva sighed in relief and plopped herself down on her leather desk chair. Several moments later, she stood up and exited the room. She figured that she could arrange her desk items in the morning. She turned the room's lights off, exited the room, and shut the door.

* * *

It had seemed like a thousand years to Katie, but in truth no more than an hour had passed. The dark-haired girl nervously glanced at the face of the clock, and she sighed deeply in relief. Finally, closing time had dawned upon Katie and her remaining employee.

"Thanks for waiting with me until closing, Katie," Lindsay said sweetly, and she flashed a genuine smile at her employer.

Katie nodded and sniffled. "It's no trouble, Linds. I can tell you're still broken up about Zoey just as much as I am."

"I'm just scared of being in that parking lot alone at night now," Lindsay admitted.

"And I don't blame you either," Katie said with a nod. "But I'm, like, sure that was a one-time thing."

There was a loud and abrupt knock at the door that startled both Katie and Lindsay, with the former nearly jumping out of her skin and the latter screaming an ear-splitting scream. The girls clung to each other in fear as another knock followed. Finally, the sound of keys jingling came and the door slowly opened.

"Why the hell is this thing locked, girls?" a voice asked jokingly.

Katie sighed once she realized who it was. "You almost scared the crap out of us, Mr. McLean!"

Her landlord, Chris McLean chuckled at this. "Well, I just hope it was _almost_. I don't want the stink of shit smelling up my building."

Chris was a man of short stature, but made up for it by having a larger-than-life presence about him. His raven hair was consumed entirely by hair gel, and the darkness of his eyes were rivaled only by the stubble on his cleft chin. He was in his mid-thirties, but fate had been kind to him and aged him well.

"You won't have to worry about that, sir," Katie said, swallowed nervously.

The landlord cracked his knuckles and walked over to Lindsay and swung his arm around her shoulder."I heard news of one of your employees passing. Shame." He turned to face Lindsay and grabbed her chin. "How are you holding up, doll face?"

Lindsay stammered nervously, unsure of what to do. Luckily, Katie intervened and patted Chris on the back. "Her boyfriend has been comforting her, right Linds?"

Chris got the message and released Lindsay from his iron grip. "Anyways, I just wanted to let you girls know that I _am_ actually genuinely sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," Katie said, not diverting her eyes from the ground.

"... But I'm afraid that you will have to take your business elsewhere now."

Katie raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"I can't have a murder scene being at one of my buildings," Chris said. "But, hey, as soon as you two get out of here, the murder won't be associated with one of my buildings, but your little coffee shop!"

"Don't you have another building somewhere we could continue our business?" Katie asked hopefully.

Chris tapped his chin nervously. "I will... consider it. But until then, have this store emptied by the end of the week. Four days, that's pretty generous."

"You're so magnanimous," Katie grumbled, crossing her arms.

"Aren't I?" Chris asked, smirking devilishly. He walked to the front door and before exiting the building, he turned around and said, "You girls have a good night, okay?"

Once the evil landlord had left, Katie groaned and slammed her head against the counter. Lindsay patted the back of her friend in an attempt to comfort her, and then gave her a big hug around the back. Katie was one for hugs, and she knew she needed one right now, so she gladly accepted and returned the hug.

* * *

Eva had a difficult time finding an available space to park in her apartment's parking garage. Given the hour, most of the building's residents had long since retired to their homes for the evening. Nonetheless, Eva managed to find a parking space near the end of the garage.

She exited her vehicle and took her suitcases, four in all, and managed to juggle all of them. She locked her car door, shut the trunk, and made her way to the apartment front door. When she opened it, she was relieved when she found it unlocked.

It did not seemingly bother her that she would have to climb three flights of stairs to get to her apartment; she was always willing to get a little exercise. Besides, with her being the former bodybuilder she was, she did not find that the bags were heavy at all.

Once she finished climbing the stairs, she looked around for her apartment number, 307, and hers was at the very end of the hall. She got there and sighed in relief - she could sleep after such a long and tiring day.

Eva reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a silver key. She put it carefully into the doorknob and turned it, opening the door. She smiled weakly, something very rare for her to do, when she saw that her couch, coffee table, weight set, and bed were all on the floor waiting for her. She had called a moving company to put her stuff she could not fit in her own car ahead of time, gave them her apartment information and a spare key.

She pulled out her cell phone and set an alarm for six in the morning, and after that, she fell face first onto her mattress, not bothering to move it into the bedroom.

* * *

The old pickup truck stopped abruptly, startling Scott quite a bit. Duncan did not say a word when he got out of the car; he walked casually to the back of the truck and pulled out one of the bins. Scott did not get out of the car, but remained in his seat.

"Scott!" Duncan called in a loud whisper, clearly annoyed. "Get your dumb ass out here and help me!"

When he didn't respond, Duncan growled in frustration. He set down the bin and stormed over to the car. He opened the door and shot daggers at Scott.

"Are you fucking deaf?" the punk snarled. "What the hell's the matter with you?"

The ginger sighed and looked at Duncan with sorrow. "I didn't do it."

Duncan was lost. "What the hell are you blabbing about?"

"That kid," Scott said. "I didn't kill him."

"What?"

Scott sighed and got out of the truck. "Well, I went to his house, ready to kill him, right? Well, I thought I was supposed to, but we already had that argument. Anyway, when I got there, he was already dead. All of that shit was done to him already."

"Wait, so you lied to me?" Duncan asked, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded.

Duncan grabbed Scott by the collar and threw him to the ground. He kicked Scott several times in the stomach, and then picked him up again. He shoved Scott's face onto the hood of the car and punched him in the back of the head. Then he turned Scott around and delivered a hard punch in the nose.

"Don't ever fucking lie to me again," Duncan barked. "Now help me with this bin!"

* * *

Even though it was three o'clock in the morning, the lights of a dilapidated chapel were still on. The sign outside read on three separate lines: "All Hail Our Lord the Ninth", "Put the Ninth First", and "Taco Tuesday Moved to Wednesday".

Inside, there were only two people seemingly present. One was standing in the front of the room, wearing a white robe with countless nines printed across the sleeves and back. He was tall, lean, and handsome with dark hair and green eyes. His expression was emotionless and somber.

The other was a scrawny individual with shaggy brown hair and grey eyes. He wore a blue toque, a white polo shirt with a nine symbol by the collar, khakis, and large brown boots. This was the same individual who ran into Eva upon her arrival.

"Have you retrieved the items I requested?" asked the first man, Trent Freeman.

"I have, Father Trent," replied the second, Ezekiel Winchester.

"Bring them to me."

Ezekiel approached Trent with a plastic bag. He dumped out the items in the bag onto the brown pedestal. One by one, they fell out: severed black fingers, a clump of teeth, an eyeball, severed black toes, a bloody knife, a clump of red hair, a picture of Zoey Alvis, another picture of Cameron Wilkins, and a cupcake with a nine painted in frosting.

"Excellent, my child," Trent proudly shouted, grinning widely. "Everything I asked for is here, all nine of them!"

He picked up the cupcake and chuckled. "Nine," he said before taking a bite. "How delicious."

"I hope you enjoy it, eh," Ezekiel said, smiling politely. "But I have a question."

"Ask anything," said Trent as he devoured his treat.

Ezekiel nervously tapped his fingers. "Why did that boy have to die?"

"For sacrificial reasons," Trent assured him.

"But he didn't have nine letters in his name," Ezekiel pointed out.

Trent shook his head. "No, but he _did_ have fourteen."

He was lost.

"Fourteen minus nine is five," Trent explained. "He is the fourth sacrifice this month. Four plus five is...?"

"Nine," Ezekiel replied.

Trent smiled. "Do you understand now, Ezekiel?"

"I do, eh," Ezekiel said.

"But do you understand what needs to be done _now_?" asked Trent, who had now finished the cupcake. "What our next step is?"

Ezekiel shook his head.

"Kill a member of the WPPD who has nine letters in their name," Trent whispered. "And guess what? I'm going to kill them, but _you_ get to pick who! I will give you the list, and you pick whomever your heart desires."

Trent handed him the list. For a few seconds, Ezekiel did not say anything. "Does it matter who, eh?"

"They just have to have nine letters in their first and last name," Trent pointed out. "But don't worry. I've already highlighted them."

Ezekiel swallowed. "What about this one, eh?"

"Let me see," Trent said, smiling creepily. He grabbed the list from Ezekiel and nodded in approval at the name Ezekiel had circled in pencil...

Eva Vargra.

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**End of Chapter Three.**

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**Author's Note**: The ending was a bit rushed, I apologize, but I hope the chapter in general was to satisfaction. I would have had this chapter out sooner, but I was without WiFi for the past three days, because there was a really bad storm that knocked a branch onto our power lines, which did not knock out the WiFi. The reason it was knocked out was because after the guys got the branch off and put the power lines back up, they messed up doing THAT. Figures.

Well, thank you for taking time to read this story!


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